Chapter 1 How I died.

My name… Yaw H. Thompson.

Ghanaian by birth, but I was raised by my dad, in Japan.

Dad was always calculated, a bit strict, but he was a great man and he loved me, dearly. He was the only family I had, no siblings, aunt, nothing.

Even though I knew deep down he was hurting, he always wore a smile, just for me.

I lost everything when I lost him to Cancer… I was just eight… I had to fend for myself at such a tender age. Loosing the only one in your life at that age is devastating…

See, I never really knew my mom. Dad said she died, but I felt he was holding something back. Guess I'll never know what it was now.

I wasn't scared taking responsibility for myself at that age, because I had her.

Come to think of it my life could have gone down hill but I held on to that memory of her.

Wait, did I forget to mention I'm black?… Hihihi.

Who you may ask?

Well, if you really want the answer to that, it would mean going back, way back to the beginning, not the beginning of time that's for sure.

You see I'm one of those rare people who still has their memories intact straight from when they were born. You may think it's impossible, no one can have memories since infancy but no it's real we just hate to talk about it, in any case who would believe us? Sometimes i like to even think of it as my super power.

Awesome ain't it?

To remember the first thing you saw when your eyes first opened…

The end of our serenity, our lonesomeness in our dark prison to the first time you see light, hear sounds, smell and feel of the breeze.

The first time to see the one who brought me out, all the hard labour.

You may be thinking my mom but no, it was the doctor.

Sorry, I couldn't help but make a joke about it. It was so amazing.

He was the first I saw, his dark skin under the blue uniform, before I saw mom.

Yep, I was born in Ghana, 1999. Almost 2000.

Yay, I still get to be called a millennial.

A baby's mind is almost void of knowledge but even I knew her when I first saw her, my mom. To describe her, in a word, pretty...

So yeah, I remember everything, faces, voice, sounds. If I were a machine I would probably be out of memory or be slowing down like zzz…zzz… Ehh, ehh, ehh.

It makes me wonder, what does my subconscious and memory recess store? Oh well, can't force myself to forget.

By now you're probably thinking the lady I referred to as 'her' would be my mom, but no she wasn't.

A month after my birth I was able to understand simple sentences from mom and dad.

Life couldn't have been any better. Ain't that right kids? Clueless, not a care in the world. To be in your mom's arms, sucking on her soft breasts. It didn't matter the size or shape, flabby, perky, small, busty… but I know my mom's was just perky and so soft. Jealous? I'm totally laughing at you right now.

Anyway, the doctor told me and my parents I was going to be clever. Guess no child understands that until they start to build their own intelligence.

Three months in, I could very well distinguish people. Well, both are traits a majority kids have. So I guess nothing special.

I still remember mom's sweet lullabies even though they sound like gibberish to me now. I don't understand the damn language. Dad never gave a care or had the time to teach me anything about my country, only that when I got older I could go visit it myself.

*Well it's too late for that, old man.*

A month later, I started to crawl. Bet you weren't thinking so soon?

What can I say? I was in a hurry to get the hell out of the house, so I could see the rest world.

I remember dad always being in coat, always busy but he still had all the time in the world for me. He would pick me up, spin me around and play with me. I had all sorts of toys and both my parents were there for me.

In case you're also wondering, yes, my dad had an ample amount of worth, middle class would be the best ranking.

Another month passed and I was already up on my feet running around on rampages, messing things up and giving them those big sad baby eyes so they don't scold me. Boy I grew up so fast.

I know, I know you still wondering the hell she is, I'm getting to it.

Even as a baby I could tell mom and dad weren't really on good terms around the eight month. They'd go for hours nonstop arguing about stuff I do not care to even think about.

Being a child is so fun, too little to process things, nothing to care about.

As much as life is nearly fun for babies, it also has its downsides.

Reality makes things so cruel. Aside from broken homes, poverty and others, illness, which dad said was common in this country was really the problem. As much as 20% of babies, children in general in this country have disease that prove fatal for kids rather than grown up.

Yea, I made research, it's my country after all.

Since children don't have the physic or that much of a strong immunity—sometimes contrary but it was still Juvenal—it was easy to become sick.

On my first birthday I too fell sick. The cause was a mystery to my parents and the doctors.

Personally I think I ate something. Of course I knew that would totally rip them apart.

So I guess that too is my fault.

Dad blamed mom for not caring well for me.

Like which mother will harm or intentionally make their own kid suffer? Although, I have heard a lot on that very same topic.

Events on that few days were just unbearable. I would not want to relive that day for all the money the world has to offer.

Maybe, I may be willing, for the right price, though. *wink*

Dad and mom rushed me into the hospital. The pain was unendurable. I felt it all over, unable to move a single muscle. I was in and out of consciousness, somehow awake but passed out.

My eyelids could not even close for a blink. Even that pain was excruciating. Imaging not closing you eyes that long, so dry.

So dad blinked my eyes for me as we made it towards the hospital. He would brush his hand over my face making my lids close. Naturally since I had no control they would open on their own.

On our arrival nurses got me on a stretcher and rushed me into the ER.

As mom and dad waited in the waiting room I was about to under extremely painful tests…

That even wasn't the problem.

My country was still in the dawn of the age of technology, so they had nothing much to work with.

For an hour the doctors tried to administer a drip as they tried to slow whatever was happening so they could carry on to their tests—but they couldn't find a single vein. My heart was beating too slow for them to get one.

They had nearly given up until about twenty minutes into the second hour did they found one, right above the crease where my arm meets, above the elbow.

Though the doctors were good at their jobs especially with the little they had, the nurses on the other hand, especially the women nurses in this country, I would say most of them were dumb, stupid, clumsy and overbearing. I mean what the hell man, who the hell even taught them? Most female nurse were hot and sexy. I believe, that went into their heads and the 'nurse' title just felt appealing to them.

Sorry went off track a bit, or maybe not. So a nurse was assigned to keep an eye on the drip—the dosage—and monitor me so nothing happened.

Come on, just a simple task and I almost ended up on the other side.

Just a simple dose and that clumsy oaf opened the tap and let loose a flood of stream into my veins. The rush ran deep into body leaving a sharp, constant sting behind.

My heart that was already slowly beating instantly came to a halt…

Piiiiiiiing… that was the last thing I heard. The sound of the heart rate monitor go dead.

I recant my earlier statement I would never want to relive that day. It was too excruciating. Just thinking about it makes my scar seem like a fresh wound.

Everything became quiet, so peaceful.

I saw myself on the operating table. One doctor scolded the nurse for her incompetence as the other tried to resuscitate me.

Suddenly the whole place starting to disintegrate around me, transporting me into a darkness. There was nothing but darkness in sight.

There is a belief that children, less than a decade old will see heaven, since they were in a word 'innocent'.

I was in a place void of light but I could see clearly. I heard ripples as I walked the black floor. When I looked down it was the blackest shade of water staring back at me so much so that it looked like a mirror. I walked the watery floor which had not a single crease of wave only that it rippled as I took each step aimlessly walking around.

A bright light cut through the serene blackness behind me and I turned.

That color was the purest of white I don't believe to have seen since that day.

"H…"

I heard a voice call out my name. Only dad called me H, but that wasn't the voice of my dad. I didn't know who it was but it was soothing. The voice of the man was so melodious I wanted to to see who it was.

I started walking towards the light.

You're probably yelling don't go into the light or who is the she person I spoke about.

Well, it's hard to put it, that you wouldn't think I'm crazy.

Here goes nothing. As I got closer to the light a hand grabbed my hand from behind. I turned to my side and saw a person in a black cloak, their head under the hood. I wasn't scared because their hand was the softest thing I ever touch and their presence was just comforting.

"It's not your time yet, little one"

Then I realized, it wasn't just any voice, it was that of a girl-lady-woman. That voice, just so sweet, hearing it made my heart melt, missing its rhythm.

I think I fell in love with her voice even before seeing who she was.